


Love. Devotion. Interrupted.

by SaturdayAddams



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Light BDSM (mentioned), Spoilers season 1, Zelda-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 16:23:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16519979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaturdayAddams/pseuds/SaturdayAddams
Summary: It’s almost enough to make you laugh. Bitterly and without abandon. The sheer perverted mockery of it all, of what should have been. You always heard the Dark Lord has a strange sense of humour, but you wish the joke for once would be on someone other than yourself.





	Love. Devotion. Interrupted.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little warning that this story will probably make absolutely no sense if you haven't seen the entire season 1 og the show.
> 
> Had a feeling from the beginning that there had to be some kind of history between Zelda and Blackwood, and since the show didn't provide one (yet!) i decided to make one up. Hope you enjoy!

It’s almost enough to make you laugh. Bitterly and without abandon. The sheer perverted mockery of it all, of what should have been. You always heard the Dark Lord has a strange sense of humour, but you wish the joke for once would be on someone other than yourself. Here you are. The High Priest’s child safely in your arms. The child you brought to this world, and that you will raise and protect like only a mother could. But you’re not. And he doesn’t even know. And the only reason the little girl in your arms still breathes is because nothing about this supposed domestic picture is how it should be.

You’ve served the Dark Lord for as long as you can remember. Even in pigtails you were so devoted the other children in your coven wouldn’t even pretend to hide their snickers and cruel whispers. No matter. You showed them who could be the cruelest of all. Even more, you were so confident in the Dark Lord, you knew your devotion would be rewarded in time while they would live both their lives and afterlives in utter irrelevancy. Truly, your young heart knew no one mattered but Him.

Faustus came later. A sort of presence in your periphery during adolescence, he didn’t fully enter your focus until the year he became Edward’s mentor. Once he did however, your young witch’s heart was forever altered. A young woman by then, you were well aware of the numerous warlocks vying for your affection. Fun playthings, but whilst certainly flattering, you never really found any of them worthy of your affection. Faustus on the other hand, his effect on you magnetic from the moment your brother introduced you. The way his eyes devoured you while he kissed your hand, so obscene it’s a wonder Edward didn’t hex him there and then. His intent in little doubt, where your usual reaction was indifference and pity, you answered him with an equally hungry look of your own. As handsome as he was vain, you really should have known better. Older, pitch black hair, deep timbre and piercing eyes that you swear could see right through every stitch of clothing to the very centre of you. Dark and terrible, his devotion to the Dark Lord rivalled only by yours. His arrogance alluring even in youth.

How no one wondered why you had nothing better to do but visit your brother’s office at any odd hours you’ll never know. Stranger still that no one questioned how the usually busy Faustus Blackwood could spend so much time at his protege’s home. Pleasant conversations quickly turned hushed, necessitating much more intimate space between you. Almost innocent, until it wasn’t. Strict and proper to the point of parody in public, it only made the ways you could make him sigh even sweeter. Stolen kisses, far away from Edwards protective gaze, just stirred your want for more, and so on the first night of the full moon on an old desecrated grave deep in the woods behind your house, you gave him the gift of your first. If his sighs were sweet, the way he would lose all control in your arms was downright addictive. You never exchanged any promises. Not then, nor in any of the decades that followed. His work with Edward ended, your lives remained separate yet interwoven. Other warlocks decent enough distractions, especially during long stretches of time on different continents, but you barely batted an eye at casting them aside when Faustus inevitably came calling. And come calling he did, for while his eyes undoubtedly wandered, they always returned to you.

When the robes of the high priest adorned him for the first time, they fit him differently than they did Edward. Different, but right. Where there used to be a Spellman beneath them, you saw a Spellman at their side. Even in your sorrow, you saw your potential. Your first united with your eternal. Body and spirit, with your heart somehow between them. Who better than the one who loved both the man and the beast to stand proudly with the former in service to the latter? There were times you thought it could be. But the Spellman name was marred with controversy and unease at that point, and the coven longed for tradition and stability. Things you could have provided in plenty, if only he hadn’t acted so cowardly at the prospect of power.  
His unholy alliance made to another, your fantasy crumbled right in front of you. Never one to wallow in loss, all you could do was to serve the Dark Lord in every other way but the one you were made for. Serve the Dark Lord and restore your family’s name in His eyes. It was almost enough.  
  
Something unspoken always laid thick between you, your new formality and old familiarity clashing and coexisting in an intricate dance. Eyes both stern and wicked as they pulled you in and demanded your devotion. You gave it willingly. Fatherly kisses on your forehead tended to linger, and while your touches remained proper, there really was no reason they should be so plenty. Slithering around each other till you were wound you so tight you were sure one of you would snap, something always held you back. And if you ever questioned if he knew what he was doing to you, the peculiar glint in his eyes told you ’yes’.

  
Midwife.

It felt an eternity for his meaning to register.

Midwife to the wife of the High Priest of Satan Himself. To be trusted with the well-being of his long awaited heir. The greatest honour. A slap in the face. But as always, you’d serve faithfully. Anything for the Dark Lord and his earthly vessel. You’d make sure everything went smoothly till the High Priest had his heir. Both your name and pride depended on it, and at this point, those two things were all you could possibly hope to fight for.

You’re not quite sure why now, after all this time. No doubt he could have satiated his lust with any willing witch in the coven, avoiding the complication that is you. And by now you should definitely have known better. But it didn’t matter did it? When you kissed, he tasted like home. The fireplace the only witness as he took you on the floor. It didn’t occur to you till later, sweaty and glowing in his arms, that had Ambrose wandered from his room, he easily could have been another.

The sting of the apparent rejection only lasted a moment. You’ve heard him aroused enough times to realize this assigned penance was hardly a rejection at all. If he needed this charade to regain the illusion that this was about doing the Dark Lord’s will, so be it. Praise Satan indeed. Never submitting like this for anyone, the prospect of it made you shiver, and damn if the thought of him completely at your mercy wasn’t excruciatingly mouth-watering as well. And so you gave him another first. By the 10th lash you were both panting, and at the 30th you could hardly move. Splayed out on the bed, throat hoarse, and skin on fire. His tongue lavished upon you, and impossibly, the flames grew till surely your entire being was replaced by a delicious unholy inferno. It was the need to touch the marks on his skin, feel the imprint you left on him with your fingers, that gave you the strength to turn around, welcome his tired body upon yours and wrap yourself around him with shaking limbs. There was no hiding behind the Dark Lord’s will the way he moved inside you afterwards.

  
You were as surprised as Hilda at what you’d done. For your entire life until that moment, you would have let the High Priest do what he deemed necessary. For surely, the actions of the High Priest is the Will of Satan. But in her you saw Sabrina. And in that very moment you had to face what you have tried your hardest to hide from everyone, including yourself for years. You have changed. Your everlasting love and devotion for the Dark Lord has been surpassed for that of a girl. Centuries defining your very core, destroyed by a measly 16 years. And in seeing this child, crying in your arms, mother dying, you saw all that Sabrina might not have been. And so there really was no choice, was there?  
  
This time you took.

This is what it has come down to. You will open your arms to him as you raise the child he doesn’t know lives. You will serve and you will lie. You will confess to transgressions you haven’t committed, so that he will assign penance for those he can never know.

In the end, you’re sure to burn, but as you’ve learned, the greatest ecstasy can be gained from that.


End file.
